That time I quit blogging for a month

The fact is, this semester has just plain sucked. I haven't been my best self. I've been self loathing. I've overindulged in my own problems. I've let a crappy professor dictate how I feel about my writing. I've complained and complained and complained without doing anything about it. I stopped blogging because I knew I was just being a turd. I knew I'd dealt with much bigger problems and yet I let dinky ones get in the way of happiness. I don't know what feeling bad for myself for a month means but when it finally all just become silly, I did something about it. And then life became better.

In two weeks, I've gotten a job as a barista, scored an internship for this spring and into next summer, started volunteering at a nursing home, and returned back to hiking and running again. The action of doing something rather than sitting at home in bed with my journal and a sweet boyfriend to complain to made all the difference. 

So, I guess I'm back. I'm back and I miss blogging and I sort of miss my old self. I'm ready to do again. Chalk it up to a winter that never ended, a professor tell me I sucked, a series of migraines and colds that didn't seem to end, stuffing as many credits as possible into a semester so I can study abroad next spring, or immaturity- but a month of doing nothing proved to be the kick in the pants I needed. 

A couple weeks ago, while I was volunteering, I wasn't anxious to make the rounds to the ward of the nursing home of older folks who aren't active or talkative. It's hard to watch people who seem to have given up, but it's harder to watch people who seem to have given up because they've reached the stage of their life where their reasons for living exist only in their past. However, as I made my way down the hallway, one gentleman sat in his wheelchair outside his room. I've met him once and he barely smiled when I introduced himself. I knew his family lived states away and he spent most of his time reading alone. This time, though, I said hi and asked if he wanted to play a board game. 

He looked at me and said, "Girlie, you don't look old enough to ask a man if he wants to play a board game." 

He followed this statement with a wink and then looked me directly in the eye. I stared in shock and then, at the same time, we both started laughing. It was the only reminder I needed. Life is too serious to take so seriously sometimes.

snowed in

When imagining the best present in the entire world, I might first picture something like a mountain of cinnamon rolls, a Mac desktop, the camera of my dreams, coffee by the truckload, love, or the boxed set of Gossip Girl on dvd.What I don't imagine is the impossible gift of time because in Montana, when they say it's going to blizzard, you never allow yourself the indulgence of imagining a SNOW DAY. It doesn't happen. I learned that two days into my first Montana blizzard freshmen year when my roommate and group of friends holed up in our dorm room (throw back Sunday to me four stinkin' years ago). You simply survive through it, in as many layers as you can fit in and over your down jacket.

So when I woke up Friday morning at 6am to a text saying that school was cancelled, I can say without a doubt, it was the best present the world could have provided. After my less than optimistic attitude that lasted so many weeks, a text that explicitly said, "DO NOT GO OUTSIDE!" I took that to mean that I should soak up every single second of free time to stay indoors. 

Heaps of dishes were completed tag team style while listening to the new Lake Street Dive, naps were taken, three movies were watched, pizza was consumed, fuzzy socks were worn, cell phones were ignored completely, snuggling was a necessity, and acknowledgement of a world outside a 2 bedroom apartment were ignored.

It was a stress free happy day that made up for a month of never ending to do lists. 

The blizzard lasted a full 48 hours in which I went outside twice: once to unbury my car and the second to take pictures of the snow for documentation because, really, how many times is this going to happen? The last time a blizzard in Missoula closed the University was in 1996.

I think I might be prepared to conquer the rest of this winter now. It's amazing what two days can do for the head and the soul. 

the weight of it allllllllll

Maybe it's the record amounts of snow we are getting (after a record warm January last month) and the sheer amount of crazy happening in all my classes, but I am feeling a little (a lot) stretched thin right now.

I want to do it all. I want to show up to every class having carefully read every single word. I want to be there for every single one of my friends who are enduring loads of emotional drama in their lives (is this the winter of breakups after breakups or what?). I want to volunteer at the nursing home like it's my full time job. I want to read every single one of the 300 submissions to our school's literary magazine that I'm working on this semester. I want to meet my Netflix quota for the week. I want to meet my personal Netflix quota but also hang out with my boyfriend when I'm done with homework. I want to cook healthy meals every day instead of eating crappy food on campus. I want to work harder to book more photography jobs than I am now. I want to work out and be active. I want to babysit on weekends. I want to ski, go snowshoeing, take winter pictures, and thrift. 

I want to do it all. For five weeks, I've tried. I've tried and it's starting to take a toll on the quality and quantity of sleep I get every night. It's starting to take a toll on my happiness and the way I process every emotion, good or bad. It's starting to all become an all consuming never ending to do list I'm always thinking about and taking me away from the present.

And the thing is, my "problems" aren't even really "problems". It's just life and being busy. It's just those pesky extra ten minutes in the morning brushing six inches of snow off my car, losing a couple hours of sleep, and not being able to have as much fun as I'd like that's getting to me. It's just LIFE and I'm sick of waking up feeling stressed every morning. This week I'm trying to wake up with a fresher and happier attitude. It's starting to help and putting in time to go to the gym is also helping. The fact is, I can't do it all and after five weeks, I'm starting to accept I won't be able to execute all of the above perfectly. And that's okay.

My best sometimes is good enough.

winter is still here

The past month.

Writing, constantly and obsessively. Pages and pages and pages. No fewer than three separate word documents on my screen at one point. Five research essays each week; memoir 15 page increments; and dreaded poetry. I like to think all of this writing is helping me and that I'll grow from it, but most days I just feel like I go to my computer and write to get the required pages out. Most days are starting to blend together to feel like 'eh' writing days.

Snow, predictably inconsistent and exhausting. One morning, it wakes me up gently, coaxing me outside with its elegant fluffy layers, and the next it's all been replaced by swaths of ice and slush. I hate the slush and ice days more than anything. On mornings when my walk to school feels like living in Narnia, I feel light. But those February ice days, man. They're getting to me.

Friends, uplifting and necessary. Pains in the ass some days. Important, always.

Crocheting, because for every moment of chaos and panic, there is always something tangible I can create and hold with my hands when I'm done. That is everything when it feels like everything else is swimming.

Homework in bed when there isn't time to cuddle and watch movies. Reading when I've finished my homework and he hasn't, curled up on my own side facing the window in my room where you can see a hint of the Bitterroots. Back tickles between page turns.


Head and the Heart. John Butler Trio. Lorde. Lake Street Dive.

So, so ready for a new month. February, as I've decided, has been the best of the best and the worst of the worst in terms of everything.

red velvet was calling my name

Prepare yourself for a post mostly about nothing.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays this semester, I have eight glorious hours of classes in a row without a break. There's nothing better than eight hours of class without more than a 10 minute break, all in the exact same building, so that most days I don't even have to smell the fresh Montana air. This morning, my first class was cancelled because my fancy professor is speaking at Stanford. I would be impressed but this is also the same professor who left her students for the safety of her office during the lock down last week, so. She blew it there. With an extra two hours this morning to spare, I decided to go to the grocery store to buy coffee creamer since I've been out for a week instead of buying espresso, and picked up Red Velvet muffins without a second thought because, duh, it's Valentine's week, right? I am happy to report that within six hours of purchasing them, one whole muffin and two muffin tops are gone. 

I decided to do laundry and while in the laundry room, a very attractive man entered and to my surprise, recognized me before I recognized him. How often does a hot guy recognize you from sharing a class together before you realize you know them? Never, if you're me. We chatted and he was every sort of adorable and I tried to peek around him to see if he was a boxers or a brief (forget shoes, this says everything about a man). After he left, I loaded my washer and realized I left my soap at home but Hot Guy From Non-Fiction left his laundry detergent sitting on the washer. Thanks, dude. 

As we get further into the spring semester, I just get happier and happier that I'm not graduating yet. I will be the proudest super senior in school. 

I've turned memoir writing into an excuse to just eat grilled cheese for nearly every meal and I'm okay with my future if that's what being a writer looks like. I mean, chin acne has never been worse and I've never been more motivated to go to the gym as a means of procrastination but all in all, it evens out.

I have plans for Valentine's Day this year and they involve a concert and I'm not even mad about how corny this holiday is going to be.

you've got something I need

Things that deserve a round of applause include: fresh snow after a March feeling January (because there's nothing like winter that looks AND feels like winter), new music, The Fault in Our Stars trailer (if I'm feeling these many emotions for a trailer I can't imagine how the movie will go), leather jackets with cat printed sweater dresses, and blog posts that make you remember why you love writing and blogging (KUDOS TO YOU, pretty girl.)

Things have hit a more positive note for me this week. I spent an entire day by myself at a coffee shop on Saturday catching up on a week's worth of homework I didn't do and it reminded me of how important it is to continually 'date myself'. I'm one of my favorite people to hang out with and sometimes in the throes of stress and drama, I forget that the simplest way to escape it is to physically isolate myself. A solid day of me, my cup of joe, my writing, my journals, and a stack of homework. There was nothing better.

Also, if that doesn't work, there's lipstick and night clubs.

Here's to more BLOGGING and hopefully more cat printed everything. There is never enough.

my wretched self

This week was pretty crappy.

I let the wretched parts of myself dictate my mood and how I reacted to things that were happening.

I debated dropping my creative writing non-fiction class because I thought after the first class it sounded "dumb". I am a lot of things but being a coward is not one of them. This creative writing class is going to force me in directions I've never considered let alone attempted. I am going to have to produce a 'manuscript' by the end of the semester that our professor says he wants us to write with the intention of someday pursing getting published. Maybe I was just intimidated. Maybe I thought he was bonkers. It's possible I thought for a second I knew better than my professor and felt falsely arrogant.

I also yelled at my boyfriend; mark that as a first. It was stupid and happened due to the result of a misunderstanding that I jumped on in a moment of my feeling insecure. Oops. Thankfully, the next day we talked it out and I realized how awesome it was that as silly as a fight that it was, it's sort of a blessing to be a little bit messy. It's healthy. I am not perfect. I've never fought with a boyfriend and in the heat of the moment, I never for a second thought it was going to lead to a break up or make him hate me. It showed me that in a good relationship, disagreements do happen and I don't have to be so afraid of messing up. We're human. Mishaps happen! And it's beautiful.

I let myself become all consumed by the negative things happening to everyone else, too. Which isn't to say that I shouldn't have empathy for the people in my life because a good friend absolutely should. But I let the problems people in my life were experiencing leak into other faucets of my own, too. I took out frustrations other people were going through onto other friends and family.

These are things that I didn't want to write about during the week on my blog because I don't want to be a complainer. That's part of why this week sucked. Usually I'm a wizard at looking at the bright side and choosing to be positive. I hate complainers. I found myself complaining and coming back to the same frustrations over and over again. I was less than myself. But maybe that's what my problem was, too. I was trying to shut out all negative things I was feeling when maybe I should have just come to terms with them instead of trying to force rainbows and sunshine. Maybe I shouldn't demean my emotions so forcefully. Once I stepped back and gained some perspective, I understood the motives behind my actions and there was some justification to them despite the petty ways that I reacted.

I am going to vow to listen to myself a little bit better instead of shrugging things off. I am going to vow to let myself be messier. I am going to vow to let myself feel what I feel, good or bad, because you can't move past something until you address it.

getting the heck out of dodge

As far as I'm concerned, when your best friend gets her heart broken, it only means one thing: it's time to get the hell out of dodge. It also means being joined spontaneously by your other best friend and road tripping home to Idaho. When you have parents that offer up being designated driver for the night, buy breakfast and dinner, and provide a cozy place to have some serious girl talk time, there really is no better cure than a week long escape from Montana with da girls. Key words: no boys allowed.

It's hard to watch people you care about go through hard things. It's hard to lend your own perspective knowing that when you've been there before, you know that nothing anyone says is really going to help or make sense right away. The only thing to do is listen. And drink a few margaritas. And dance. A lot. And enjoy the heck out of your friendship with your fellow gal pals. Because damn it, is there anything girls can't accomplish together?

p.s. I have no idea why I look so pregnant in this photo. I am definitely not. Note to self not to pose like this again in the future in front of a camera.

better, not bitter

Today, "what could have been" looked me in the face. And boy, did it have a lot to say in very few words. It caught me completely off guard, of course, as I was mid-chew into my Boston Creme Pie donut but that's exactly my point: it's only when you're scarfing down a pastry enjoying how sweet your life really is that your past stares you in the face and you realize just how far you've come.

I'm not bitter towards my past because long ago I realized how thankful I was for it. I'm not bitter towards the years I spent studying something I hated and the time I wasted worrying too much about what other people were doing instead of worrying about what I was doing. 

Another friend of mine said to me this week over coffee, "Remember that conversation we had when you were studying for your physics final?" Yes, yes I did. Distinctly. It was a conversation that jerked me back into reality and gave me what courage I could soak up to make some definitive choices about nearly every aspect of my life.

I wondered later this afternoon how much of our lives are dictated by our own actions and how much is dictated by the actions of others. I wouldn't be where I am today if not for choices other people made and I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't stopped to listen to what my friend was telling me that day on her living room floor. It made me realize how much is out of our control and how, in the end, that is sort of an amazing thing. We can't know the effect someone else's choice will have on us until months or even years later, but undoubtedly they do have the ability to send us far away from the path we meant to take. Wouldn't life be boring if everything happened our way? And consequently, how much about ourselves would we never find out if things happened the way we planned? There are so many layers and hidden strengths buried beneath our own doubts and opinions about what's best for us that sometimes the only way for things to get better is for things to happen to us. The only things we can control are our own reactions. 

So, my sweet sweet past, thank you for showing me that I am more independent than I knew. Thank you for showing me that I have the ability to be a bad ass bitch when I need to be. I have a voice to be reckoned with. Thank you for showing me that I was deeply unhappy and needed to change. Thank you for shoving me towards a new haircut that I'd keep around for years to follow. Thank you for showing me, too, that I don't always need a big push from another person's choice to do something. I can get there on my own, too. Thank you for revealing that somewhere inside me is someone that is more courageous than she knew. And thanks for all the good memories, too. Not all of it was bad, in fact, most of is was pretty good. And it all turned out for the better.

advice from my mom

(1) When looking for love, simplicity is key. Complicated is overrated. You want to be with someone who is certain they want to be with you; no questions asked and without mind-games.

(2) You are the only person who can know if something is right for you. Trust your gut.

My mom is all knowing. At least, she has yet to be wrong about something. She's always right. She may not know it, but I hope someday that I am half as wise as she is. She also may not know that I'm taking careful notes of everything she tells me. Thanks, mom.

it was a good hair day

My life this week has been a bit scattered and everywhere this week.

For starters, I spent four days in Missoula "homeless" since I got a ride and forgot my car keys in Idaho. It was a convenient time to forget my apartment keys seeing as our bills were already a few days late and my boyfriend's parents were in town. Thank goodness for friends with empty apartments and boyfriend's with their keys.

I signed TWO contracts with brides this week to take their wedding photos this summer and I could not be more exhilarated. The spontaneous purchase of my new camera over Black Friday that cost my entire savings has, well, already been paid for over again. So. That's great news. Major financial weight lifted off my shoulders knowing I can afford rent for the next few months again.

I've reevaluated everything about myself and about the world after being sucked into 8 hour marathons of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. I've never sworn to be above much seeing as Taylor Swift is the most played artist on my iTunes and I own every season of Gossip Girl but I would be lying if I said I didn't think I was above reality TV. Well. I was completely wrong. I am not above it. If I could be Khloe for even a day....

I miss Missoula. I miss these mountains. I miss my bridge. I miss my friends. I feel genuinely lucky that Missoula is the place I'd rather be.

My sister is back in Virginia so once again I'm the "only" child at home again. I'm headed back to Missoula once again for the long haul this week and I just can't deal with 6 week long winter breaks anymore.

My mantra for the rest of the month is, "Maggie you NEED a job this semester."

I miss blogging.

My hair looked really good this day. I'm not sure this is a return to "outfit posting" at all. In fact, I'm positive it isn't because I suck at it, but when you have a good hair day.... you should ask your friend to take pictures of you and immediately post those photos to your blog? Guess so.

discipline

Dun dun dun.

I don't know where my voice went.

My 'voice'. What a stupid but powerful word used by every English major in every single creative writing workshop critique. Some days, despite my best effort, every word I write sounds fake and forced. Like, I'm trying to make lemonade out of my shoddy prose lemons but failing miserably, or some silly life metaphor like that.

You see. I don't believe in New Years resolutions. Never have, never will. When goals are too unattainable, I'll get lazy and quit halfway through (i.e. run a half marathon- reached nine miles and never ran another mile again). But if they're too easy, I also procrastinate and never do them either (i.e. write for ten minutes a day in my journal - nine days straight and then nothing for a month). There's a happy medium somewhere in there and last year I was actually able to achieve all of my New Years GOALS because they felt unattainable but not impossible. I made a to do list for myself and knocked those bullet items out like nobody's business.

This year, my goals aren't quite so far fetched. I don't have any 'big' goals for myself. I accomplished a lot last year and my goals are somewhat more long term ones I hope to accomplish in the next couple years at the moment. This year, I want to attack my nasty habits and flaws. It's one thing to move to a city alone for a summer and work full time, for example, but another to be able to do that but not be able to do simple things like take out the trash and keep my dirty clothes off the floor. Or eat servings of greens and fruit a day. Or establish routine in my life. Or work on those long term goals I have. What kind of adult am I if I can accomplish the big things and not the small ones?!

My goal for 2014 is simple and that is to focus. Focus on staying organized in my life because I seriously struggle with the little things. Utilizing some dang discipline in my life and sticking to it not because I want to, but because I need to.

Looking at the big picture of things, it's the small attention to details that can set someone apart from failure and success. I can't achieve the big things without putting in the extra effort to finish them. That being said, I want to write every single day in 2014. 750 words. Daily. Of anything.

I am trying. I'm determined that this is the year that I prove to myself that I really can do everything to achieve my goals. I can apply for the big internships and get them AND I can work on my own projects with long term end goals every single day. I can work every day towards something I might not see the success of for years. I want to prove to myself that I am passionate about what I am doing and I will do anything it takes to get there. Discipline. I won't be the majority that gives up because something gets hard and I won't be the majority that won't put in the last 10% to make something good great.

Have at me 2014 and this beautiful challenge in front of me. I'm armed and prepared.

2013: the year of answers

How horribly cliche is the title of this post?

2013 was undeniably the best year of my life. It was reminiscent of 2010, when I felt like I was passionate about the path my life was following and figured out how to cut my bangs to fit my pumpkin shaped head. Which of course means that I will probably hit another identity crisis this time with a college degree under my belt but at the moment, 2013 was the year I think I figured myself out again. I made big choices. I learned to appreciate the present. I felt at peace with myself and what I was doing again. I found my place with my friends. I achieved goals that I didn't think in a million years last January I would possibly stand a chance of doing. 2012 was simply a bad year. 2013 allowed me to start over and reground myself as I changed my major, lived in a city alone for a summer, and gained back a confidence in my future I have never experienced in college so far.

The fact that so much can change in a year is terrifying. Who knows what it will look like next year? But the fact that so many things can change, if you want them to, is also sort of amazing. It's inspiring. To think that with courage and the ability to assess your life to make what changes you know you need to make to be happy even if it is 180 degrees opposite of where things are going now you can change your own fate is a liberating and reassuring thing.

Mostly what that meant was choosing a major that allows me to do all my homework in the bathtub with a glass of wine and live in a city as an unpaid intern, but you know, those are still life changing things. I'm gonna be a poor writer and get by with wine and no matter what, I will be way happier doing that than reading Biology textbooks.

Instead of doing a month by month overview like usual, I'm just going to make a list of highlights. Because, well, that really does take forever. And maybe I'll regret changing it up this year, but I also have a sister to hang out with beside me and I just want to go hang out with her as soon as possible.

highlights of 2013!!!!!!!

• I went on a day trip to the mountains with my mom, dad, and grandma where I learned to catch a fish and appreciate being completely isolated from civilization as a kid. It was a memorable and emotional trip together in the middle of winter and I did, in fact, wear jeans hiking through two feet of snow. Oops.
• I got to meet Abbi, the sweetest and most genuine person I've ever met who I first met on the internet. Now she is ENGAGED to the love of her life and it inspires me every day.
• I started to find the way to my own happiness.
• I conquered commuter life in Seattle as an adult with a full time job and felt EMPOWERED by my own abilities. It was sweeeeet. 
• I met Josh Ritter in Missoula while I was randomly walking around downtown Missoula. Stupidly, I didn't ask for a picture during our three minute conversation when I totally could have. But awesomely enough, he REMEMBERED me from past times I've met him and from the tweet I sent him the night before. I also got to attend the show front row with my mom who came all the way from Idaho. It was the best weekend of my spring semester.
• My Missoula family became my roommate of three years and the cat we shared together in the most boring brand new apartment I will ever live in. But it was a fantastic year nonetheless.
• I planned an inaugural event for 250+ people. I organized the volunteers. I made hundreds of phone calls to potential donors and begged for their generous donations. I wore heels for an entire day and night. I attended the event on a yacht. I felt AWESOME. I drove around Seattle by myself for the first time and rode the ferry back after the longest most stressful day of my life at 10pm. I found my way to a hamburger place I'd only been to once and stumbled upon Kerry Park where I ate a grilled cheese. It was one of those nights I'll never forget.
• I went on the worst date of my life with the worst hipster of my life. For those who still ask what happened, we did not end up dating. It was the THIRD scenario. And stupidly I ended up going out with him again this fall where he left me while I went to the bathroom on our date. The next night I met the boy I'd realize I was met to go on a few bad dates with so I could appreciate what the best date of my life felt like.
• When I realized that at some point, Seattle just became another place to me. Full of beautiful and perfect things, but at the end of the day, it didn't have the people I loved. It was a hard lesson as I cried on the steps I walked past every day after remembering where I sort of grew up a little in the city. 
• I went to the East Coast for the first time to visit my star sister who goes to school in Charlottesville, Virginia. It was the experience of a lifetime to see Monticello and experience some history of our country. 

• I turned 21 and it was the best birthday I've ever had. Can every day be your 21st? On second hand, maybe that's a really poor idea. But it was fun nonetheless to dance with cowboys, get free coffee at Starbucks, run my own meeting at work, eat with all of my intern friends at Pikes, and drink legally.
• The three sets of sisters were in the same place for the first time and it was the best celebration of the coolest friendship ever made.
• I went to Hawaii for spring break with my roommate because her aunt and uncle have a house there and we did nothing but explore jungles, the ocean, and beaches without running into a single tourist for a week.  
• I met Dillon in March for the first time IRL and then got to hang out with him over the summer in Seattle.
• I declared my Idaho roots once and for all. 
• I developed a girl crush on someone who hooked up with my ex and it was super awesome. 
• An enraged Panamian broke my glasses at a Mens' USA National soccer game.
• I wrote a letter to my 18 year old self.
• I went to a One Direction concert and Sydney came to visit me in Seattle all in the same week. 
• I realized, even after the best first date of my life and then best second date of my life ever the very next night followed by two weeks of effortless laughter and conversation, I was over-thinking the start of the best relationship I've ever had because I was scared to be vulnerable again. It's easy to close yourself off. It's harder to be open.
• I met fantastic friends in my English classes and learned how to accept compliments and believe in myself a little more.

Thanks, 2013. This year ROCKED.

wordless

I think I lost my voice somewhere between the Lochsa and Lolo. Maybe I lost it when I fell on a tree stump and got a sick bruise. Or maybe I lost it when we reached the hot springs a mile upriver from the highway and we had the whole pool to ourselves for the evening. Maybe I lost my voice when it started to snow, lightly, and fog seeped in through the trees and blended with the steam. Maybe I lost it when I realized I only have one winter left in Missoula after this one and part of me wishes I could take Montana winters with me everywhere I go. Or maybe I lost it between the Cheetos puffs and Peppermint Hershey's Hugs.

Maybe I lost it when I almost fell backwards into the river trying to put my yoga pants on but had an arm there to catch me, literally.

Maybe I lost it when I knew at that moment what everything had started to mean.
To this past weekend, you were the prettiest I've ever felt.